Wednesday, June 28, 2017

It hurts to miss
my babies
on sad-eyed days it's
as if
I have an aching sob trapped up
in between
my belly and my aging eyes...

I find myself wanting
Today I am missing
my grown up (for the most part) dear children.
Where are they, my babies?
My dear 'first born' chief of a boy
with endless satire and wit
(he needed me-I needed him, too...)
and my dear second born sweet girl with beauty
I never thought was possible to find
in this day
in this life
She is smart
pretty
and so discerning
She is still a wonder to me
This woman-girl
now turned 21

The years rolled by
I walked through the days
as Mother
of the Marvelous
to my sweet bright beautiful and fearless
children.
They were bounding through life.
My 'constant companions...' (as I lovingly named them)
were mostly
side by my side.
And we had our strong 'Dada-'
the Dad-man of the house;
a man whose soul
is so immense that it fills the planet
with peace, hope,
joy
and love.
We were immensely lucky in this regard.

I spent my days watching them grow.
And we daily 'dreamed up' things we could do....
(We had our fun!)
We walked on the beach
We read our stories
We stared at animals
We played with so many toys of different sizes, colors and shapes.

I served them by driving them some and sitting with them
and tending to their many needs...
these were all (in their own way) indescribably precious times
stacked up to complete
the person I was
I was becoming
they were becoming
we became
we saw
we went

The young man
and woman on the verge
have grown up now
for the most part
and they don't need me like they used to
at 26
and now (just)
21...

One is away
while
the other
is
away a lot (but)
she is here.

I stare at bright photos that perch themselves on a shadowy brown desk
and try to find some meaning
in the other things
in my duties
like shopping
cleaning
doing
I know this may sound teary
even bleak and dreary
but I have my moments in which I long for that which has passed me
by

Our times
our seasons
that were filled with love and joy and flavor
are not unlike the mountain vapor
that is
bound to rise
and reassemble
over the next mountain ridge